FUNNYACCENT

How Much Our Lives Worth?

A couple of months ago an immigrant girl from Central America was ran over by a train in NYC subway station while she was trying to retrieve her cell phone fell onto the track.

Yesterday, a young man from New Zealander was electrocuted when he jumped into a pit a track to pick up some changes at Haymarket subway station. In all MBTA stations there are signs in red letters : DANGER OF THIRD RAIL. The rail carries 600 volts of elctricity.

Both of the victims died in senseless accidents, thousands miles away from home, but why did they do it?

An Afternoon With Pigeons

This is a perfect summer or what? The sun was high in the sky accompanied by a gentle breeze. I had my lunch, chicken caesar salad outside on a terrace at Prudential Food Court. Two pigeons landed on an empty chair at my table. They talked in pigeon's language, checking out my croutons I pushed aside on my plate. There was a sign, "Do not feed the birds." What the heck!!. They were hungry and I didn't eat the croutons. I pressed the croutons into small pieces with my thumb, and slowly pushed the crumbs towards the pigeons. They looked at each other. One of them jumped onto my table, tasting the water.
"The coast is clear," said the first pigeon.
"Are you sure?" The second pigeon was in doubt.
"Do I look like I'm not sure?" the first pigeon was offended.
"^%%#&&*(^%$$#@*** - Go ahead and eat it." Me

The second pigeon joined the first pigeon, and they ate all my croutons.

Happy Birthday, Mak

My mother is 71 years old. I called her around 8:30 p.m. to wish her Happy Birthday. She was in the kitchen having a breakfast. She never celebrated her birthday until her 59th birthday when my sister and planned to take her for a dinner at the restaurant on 61st. floor Komtar Tower. My sister called our father and asked him and Mak to come over for a visit to Penang. When we got back to my sister's flat, we gave her the presents. She was overwhelmed and touched by it.......

Waiting For Hero

I can't wait to see the movie Hero again this Friday. I saw it the first time on DVD in May when B brought home the DVD he bought in Chinatown. I went gagagogo over this movie when I watched it because I love every aspect of this movie. I wrote about it in my previous entry as All Under Heaven. Hero was directed by a controvesy director Zhang Yimou who also directed Raise The Red Lantern.
When B brought this dvd home he was so excited about it.
"Babe, I know you love Crouching Tiger, but you'll fall in love with this." He waved the dvd in my face.
He was right, I fell in love with Hero.

I want to see this movie in the theatre because watching the fighting scenes sitting in my living room with 21" screen tv set is nothing compare to sitting in a stadium seat with a digital sounds and big ass screen.

DeepFried Anchovies And The Late Train

The Orang Line train was 45 minutes late. Saturday train schedule is every ten minutes. After 15 minutes wait and there was no sign of outbound or inbound train I leaned back and continued to read Stranger On A Train by Jenny Diski.

While my eyes were on the page, my mind was on six fresh anchovies in my refrigeraor. Before I went to bed lastnight, I deboned them, sprinkled wih ground cardammon, squeezed lime juice and addded a dash of paprika. I sealed them in ziplock to keep them fresh. All I have to do when I get home is to make rice flour batter. Heat a cup olive oil, dip the anchovies in the batter and deep fry them. Good lord, where is da train? Just thinking about my crunchy deep-fried anchovies, I already read the same pages twice.

They'd just made an announcement about the trains delay. A power failure at Wellington station. After 30 minutes wait an inbound train pulled into the station on the middle track. The middle track hadn't been used for a while, probably before they started on the bigdig. All the cars were packed. When the train stopped, they made another announcement. The train would be out of service. Grrreat.... My anchovies got to wait. The doors opened and spat out the passengers on the plarform.

Finally the inbound train pulled into the station. Some people couldn't wait. Before the doors were opened they elbowed each other trying to get to the door. A young woman with a toddler in her arms was squeezed between a fat man on her right and twins elder women dressing alike. When the door was open, the fat man pushed the young mother aside, she lost her balance, but she didn't fall because she was fenced in by the people around her. One of the twins clucked her tongue at the young mother.

When everybody got in, a spike hair kid with a skateboard under his right arm saved a seat for the young mother.
"Gracias, gracias," said the young mother.
The skateboarder nodded his head. The train pulled out from the station.

Music of My Heart

I don't remember when was the last time I bought a cd. Was it Yo Yo Ma-Bobby McFerrin (Hush)? Or Paul Taylor (Hypnotic)? Anyho, it has been a long time. Whenever I am at Border Book Cafe, I seldom go to the top floor except checking a new quilting book or go to a restroom. This morning while dunking my croissant into my tea, I was mesmerized by this soothing music on a background. The music captured my attention, I sank the big portion of the croissant into my tea. I finished my tea plus the soggy croissant and hurried to the music section on the top floor.

I asked the guy behind the counter about the song.
"It's from Cafe' de Luna 2 collection."
He walked me to the New Age section and picked up the cd for me. I put on a headphone and listened to fourteen songs. I like all of them, especially Ma Oh Ma by Tau. I am not familiar with any of these names but it doesn't matter. I like their songs. I've learned to appreciate different kinds of music for the past few years, but I don't like music that makes my heart beat faster. I like to listen to the music that bring my heartbeat and breathing in sync.

Are You Being Served?

I don't know how many women or girls out there have been mistaken for a salesgirl. I have my share. I didn't give much thought about it, but after more than half a dozen times some white ladies in their sixties, assume me as a sales girl, I started to wonder, is this a genuine mistake? Since then I don't answer them, "I'm not a sales girl, maam," anymore.

If I'm not out running, I've always have a Root backpack or Nike sport bag that I sling across my shoulder. I usually carry my backpack to classroom, work or to the gym. I like to carry Nike sport bag when I go out to the movies, shopping or out with friends. The bag has enough room for my journal and camera. So, when these ladies approach me asking about their bras size, or they want to return their merchandize or just simply ask me, "Are you a salesgirl?", are they so oblivious to anything other than themselves?

This morning I was at Filene's on the second floor. I was holding a couple of Jockey yoga pants in my left hand. I had a yellow rain jacket on, and the strap of the backpack kept sliding down off my shoulder. While trying to adjust my backpack I heard a woman's voice behind me.
"Are you a sales person?" I ignored the voice. The voice came closer.
"Are you a sales person?" I turned around, a tall white lady in peach silk sweater and peach pants, standing about two feet away from me . Her silver, fluffy hair matched her pearl necklace and earrings.
"Ohhh....I was going to ask you the same question, do you have a Medium size of this pants?" I held up the yoga pants in my hand.
Without a word she turned around and walked away.

I doubt that any of those ladies would read my blog, but I'm sure you are not retarded, nor you are senile. I hear you Nathan McCall when you said, Makes Me Wanna Holler.

Sago-sago In the Glass.

I was fifteen minutes late to meet Trisca for lunch but I called her from a subway station. When I got off the train, I dashed up the strairs two steps at a time. She was standing with both hands on her hips in front of Macy's.
"Hey Kak, sini yok."
Her serious espression broke into wide smile even before she saw me, when she heard my voice.
"I was so bloody hungry, I hentam Wendy while waiting for you, Kak."
"Are you still hungry, kak?'
"Masih."
"Okay, where are going?"
"Lets start walking while we think."

Trisca and I never plan ahead when we go out. We usually reach to a decision while we excange news. It has always been like that. When we got to a junction between Tyler Street and Beach Street, Trisca pointed out at Shuhaya, a Korean Restaurant.
"Are they any good?"
"The shushi is excellente."
"Ayuh, apa tunggu lagi?"
I asked Trisca to order for me as I'm not familiar with Korean food. We started with beancurd soup. Well, I did. Trisca skipped the soup. The soup came in a small wooden bowl. I peered into a dark liquid in front of me. A few tiny dark objecs float like sampans in Dayang Bunting Lake. But I wasn't about to say anything. Look can be deceitful when it comes to food. Before I open my mouth, Trisca jumped in. "You don't need a spoon."
I lifted the bowl with both of my hands and took a sip.
The lightbulb in my taste bud lighted up.
"This is gooooood." The tiny dark objects turned out to be seaweed. I drank the soup slowly trying to coach the bean curd into my mouth. As I was drinking the last drop of the soup, our waiter brought us a platter of sushi. Three pieces of salmon, tuna and abalone. They were finely sliced placed on top of sushi rice. Four pieces of sushi rice rolled with seaweed, orange sprinkles on outside. The salmon tasted nothing like raw salmon, delicious.
The third platter was batter coated deep fried shrimp. The crunchy shrimps disappeared within ten minutes. Both of us were hungry. I ate all the cabbage and cucumber kimchi.

The last dish was beef stew cooked with sweet onions, button mushrooms, red peppers and bean sprouts. The stew came in a big deep bowl enough for three people with rice in a steel bowl. Half of the stew was gone, we pushed our plates to the side and then we realized we were they only two left in a dining room. I sipped my green bubble tea and got all the pearl (sago-sago) through the straw. Alhamdulillah.

Season In the Air

Somebody told me the other day, this year fall will be more beautiful than the years before because we have more rain, but not a heavy rain. I asked her what is rain got to do with the beauty of fall? I thought fall is always beautiful.

She said, the rain we have now will keep the leaves longer on the trees in the fall. The color changing leaves will be slower too, she added. Aaahhh...........I've learned something new.
This fall I'm thinking of taking more nature pictures along Charles River and in Boston Garden. Last year I wanted to take some pictures of four trees in Boston Garden that had four different shades of color, but I never came around to do it. This year I'll make sure I'll spend more time outside, writing out in the garden. That would be swell.

From Tobacco Leaves to a Lung to a Grave

Two weeks ago The House got a youngest resident. She is three weeks old. Her mother enters the program in her eight month pregnancy. Her mother is like all the women who had been here, they smoke like a chimney. Pregnancy doesn't stop them from smoking. She still had a cigarette in her hand when she told me she was ready to go to the hospital. I cringe everytime she and antoher four pregnant women come into the office to get their cigarettes.
All of them are trying to quit smoking, but they couldn't do it everything at once. When they're accepted into The House program to The House, they have overcome he first battle, they've acknowledged their addiction to drugs and alcoholic. They have come a long way from living on the streets to the point where they are ready to make a change for themselves and for their children. They need all the help they can get, but all the help in the world wouldn't do any good to them if they do not have self discipline.